


Stars in Your Eyes

by allbluefantastical



Category: One Piece
Genre: All Blue, Baratie, Baratie Arc, Figurative Language, Fluff, M/M, No Spoilers, POV Second Person, Takes place where Sanji is telling Luffy about the All Blue, You’re Sanji in the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 07:20:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30018156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allbluefantastical/pseuds/allbluefantastical
Summary: You come back to your senses, and the straw hat boy is staring at you intently with wide eyes.(You could practically see the adjective wonder and admiration in them despite it being midday, and it was enough to make you feel an awkward—nervous?—flush brush your cheeks with stardust.)—Sanji dreams of the fantastical All Blue and Luffy is there to listen.
Relationships: Monkey D. Luffy/Vinsmoke Sanji
Kudos: 33





	Stars in Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> All grammar mistakes are solely mine. Constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> Also on Tumblr: acenintendods

Your heart begins to race as serotonin flows through your body. You speak about your dream, the All Blue, to the boy in the straw hat.

It was just you and him. Us. The word dances through your mind fluently like a lady in a pretty lace dress, and something in you flutters.

You lock eyes with the boy again, and he’s listening attentively.

Wait.

You pause.

Someone’s listening. Someone is listening to you.

That’s not new. You’re an assertive and snappy figure, someone who’s willing to take the lead whenever a group really needs you.

But it feels different. That weird feeling in the bottom of your stomach flutters again, and you silently hammer it down.

No one usually listens to you in this way. When you’re fantastical and tuning into your dreamer nature, your dreams are usually pushed to the side by someone—anyone—to the point where you keep that sentimental side of you locked away, only to be displayed without an audience to one person only.

Something in you told you that the individual in front of you is the one person you want to share your dream with, and you feel like you were right.

You know you have the wildest imaginings possible, you always have, in a slew of ways.

You come back to your senses, and the straw hat boy is staring at you intently with wide eyes. 

(You could practically see the adjective wonder and admiration in them despite it being midday, and it was enough to make you feel an awkward—nervous?—flush brush your cheeks with stardust.)

You feel a little stressed. Not frustrated stressed, an anxious type of stressed. (Maybe frustration plays a part, since you can’t ever seem to figure out your feelings, but you don’t want to admit it...so you don’t.)

You take a cigarette out of the pack in your coat pocket, place it between your lips, and light it with quick fingers. You can still feel those eyes—god, those eyes—on you and you want to combust.

You take a drag of the cigarette and begin to go into further detail of the All Blue.

A sea where the North, South, East, and West Blue combine and join into one. It’s a sea where all the fish from all the Blues are able to communicate and relay, a sea where any cook strives to go but has no motivation to find because it’s “not real.”

Not real in quotations because it is real. You sound like you’re eight years old again, the age when you first came to the Baratie, and bashing on anyone who dared say that your dream wasn’t true.

You’re going to find it someday.

You don’t want to find the All Blue because it has all the fish a sea-cook could ever dream of cooking. Sure, maybe that’s one reason, but that’s barely the whole of it.

You want to find the All Blue because finally—maybe, just maybe—there was enough for everyone and a few cents.

Being a cook is about sacrifice. You’re only nineteen years old and you know sacrifice all too well already. Despite that, you still yearn for the day the All Blue is clear and in front of you and that is the day you can say that you are truly accomplished.

Because then, you would be able to come back to the Baratie saying you made it. You would be able to notice your former co-workers’ eyes turn to confusion then interest then admiration, but that’s not what you look for. You look for the joy and the realization that the dreams they pushed aside can come true, too.

And they set out to search for their dreams, just as you have been for the past eleven years.

You look to the boy in the straw hat again, and he’s still listening.

He’s still listening to you with the same starry look in his eyes, except now he’s taking his hat off and you’re confused.

He places his hat on your head with a cheeky smile and no words besides a chanting of “meat, meat, meat!” as he heads back into the Baratie and you blink dumbly.

You feel his presence linger, but it feels different. He is different.

The wind does not carry his presence away as it would anyone else’s. It stays.

The wind’s generosity and the boy’s actions are more than words could ever do.

You decide to stay outside for a little longer, leaning against the railing as serotonin flows through your body once more.


End file.
